My Pregnancy Journey Part 1: My First Pregnancy Story
In this multi-post series, I share my full pregnancy journey, from the the first moment motherhood became a concrete goal, through my three pregnancies and births, loss, and fertility challenges. I hope that doing so will help to challenge commonly-held misperceptions about pregnancy and birth, and foster recognition that there are a wide variety of experiences, choices, and outcomes that are possible. Ultimately, it’s about connection, to empower each other with confidence and wisdom to make our own informed decisions about what’s best for ourselves and our babies. If you have a pregnancy or birth story that you would like to share on the blog, please reach out here!
The idea of having a baby and becoming a mother always seemed like a distant prospect: something I’d definitely want to do one day, but not this day. Until one day, it suddenly didn’t feel so distant, but rather like a concrete goal. With my partner fully on board, we excitedly decided that we would start trying, knowing that it could take a few months to get pregnant.
You can probably imagine our surprise when, just a couple weeks later, we found ourselves staring at a positive pregnancy test! “Wow,” we thought, “we’re either really good at this, or super fertile!” Oh, how naïve…
Having thought that I would have a few months to adjust to the idea of pregnancy and motherhood, when it happened so quickly, the deer-in-the-headlights phenomenon quickly kicked in, leaving me feeling paralyzed with ignorance and fear. The deer-in-the-headlights feeling persisted for quite some time. From choosing my pregnancy care practitioner, to purchasing a prenatal vitamin, deciding what to eat, and even which of the myriad of pregnancy books with glowing women with full bellies pictured on the cover was right for me. I remember one of the first things I did was to go to my local health food store to buy a prenatal. I recall standing in front of a shelf with what seemed like a million different options, with no indication of how they were different or which one was best. When I asked the sales associate for her advice, she just shrugged and said “they’re all pretty much the same.” So I closed my eyes, randomly pointed my finger, and chose the lucky bottle.
Once I recovered from the shock, armed myself with a few pregnancy books (because this was in the days before we learned everything from social media) , and barraged my midwife will a million questions during my first prenatal appointment, I started to relax into my pregnancy. And once I did, I really started to enjoy it. Sure, it wasn’t all pleasant- I was nauseous for the entire first trimester and pretty much lived on apricots and soda crackers- but for the most part, I felt pretty ok, and sometimes even pretty good. So good, in fact, that when I was around 6 months pregnant, we went to Europe for a babymoon vacation, and spent a couple of weeks hiking, sunning, and eating all of the yummy things.
I recently found this photo of me on our babymoon at around 6 months pregnant.
As my pregnancy progressed, we started thinking about and planning for the birth. My friends threw me the sweetest baby shower (complete with blindfolded baby food taste testing), my favourite weekend activity became browsing through our local baby stores, and my partner and I had endless discussions and debates over strollers. Because I was under the care of a midwife, I had the option of either birthing at home or at a local hospital. We chose the latter without much thought, because babies were meant to be born in a hospital, right? (Again, oh how naïve I was!) I also knew from all my reading and research that I would want a doula there to support me. We interviewed several women, and settled on a wonderful doula who was just the right mix of grandma, crunchy, and no-nonsense. And I also knew that I wanted to have an unmedicated birth- no epidural for me!
At 39 weeks, I stopped working. By this time, I was feeling very heavy and tired, and I welcomed the opportunity to rest. My baby checklist was complete, our home was clean, my hospital bag was packed. I had no notion of what postpartum would be like, or any clue that it might require some preparation!
A few days later, I began to feel some twinges that were definitely not like the Braxton Hicks contractions I had previously experienced. My first instinct was to make a giant pot of soup. My second was to bake chocolate chip cookies. I remember puttering happily around the kitchen, thinking that this was totally manageable and thrilled that my baby would be here soon.
Alas, the contractions didn’t progress much that evening. Or that night. The next day, a weekend, my partner and were determined to move things along. Despite the snowy winter weather, we walked and walked and walked. My contractions would pick up in both intensity and duration, but then calm back down. Even the super spicy pasta dinner we ate had no effect. Contractions continued through the night, but again not regularly or strong enough to indicate any kind of progress. The next morning, exhausted after two nights of on-off contractions, I started to worry if this baby would ever come. And I began to worry about the increasing pain in my lower back during contractions. That afternoon, with active labour still elusive, my partner went to watch the Superbowl with some friends and I curled up on the couch.
Not long after he left, things finally started to change. I could no longer sit comfortably on the couch through contractions, which were starting to come more frequently. I called my partner and told him that things were finally starting to happen, and then called the doula.
Around that time, I started entered that dreamy, surreal labour state, so things are a bit fuzzy. I remember mentioning my increasingly-painful lower back pain to the doula, and her having me spend a few minutes on all fours (with no effect). I remember needing to throw up, and the doula taking this as a sign that we should call the midwife and head to the hospital. And I remember still thinking that labour was manageable and my plan to have an unmedicated birth was totally going to happen until we got to the hospital and I lay down for an internal exam. Maybe it was being on my back or being in the stark and sterilized hospital setting, or maybe it was the midwife telling me I was only 1cm dilated after 2 days of contractions, but around then I lost my inner cool and for the first time started thinking about medication. Hoping someone would talk me out of it, I began to mention the epidural. And the next thing I knew, I was lying on my back in the hospital bed, completely relieved of all labour sensation. Totally exhausted, I dozed throughout the night as the midwife and nurses continued to check on me and fuss over all the equipment I now had to be attached to.
The next morning, still totally numb from my waist down, I was told that I was finally fully dilated and could start pushing. Thrilled at the possibility of finally birthing my baby and being done with the whole labour experience, I pushed my heart out, and continued to push for 2 hours until an OB suddenly appeared and told me in a stern voice that my time was almost up and if I did not push my baby out very soon, we would need to start talking about possible interventions. Renewed with motivation, I continued to push, and shortly afterward gave birth to our daughter.
Despite my birth plan request to have her placed directly on my chest, the nurses immediately took her to be weighed and evaluated, out of concern for the large bruise that had developed on her head (due to her posterior position, which is what had caused all the back pain). Proclaimed healthy and apgar-passed, and wrapped up like a little burrito, a few minutes later I was finally able to hold my little girl.
Me with baby C, born January 2010 at 39.5 weeks, 7lb 15 oz
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a bit of a blur. There was a flurry of visitors, my doula kept handing me delicious things to eat, my partner and I took turns holding our dear little girl and chatted with the midwife about potential names. Because I was under the care of a midwife and there were no signs of complications for either the baby or me, there was no requirement for me to stay in the hospital. Instead, my midwife told me that once I felt good enough to get up and shower, I could go home. A few hours later, the epidural wore off enough that I could make it to the bathroom myself, I took a long hot shower and got dressed, we bundled our baby up into her car seat, and drove home at a ridiculously slow speed.
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